


Being Found

by ClaraRabit



Series: Trauma Verse [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: I hurt my favorite characters so much, Implied/Referenced Torture, Medical Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2018-10-05 18:07:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10314005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraRabit/pseuds/ClaraRabit
Summary: In which I decide I was really mad that most of the x-men movies didn't tell us where my favorite character was while his brother was saving the world, and decide to tear my own heart out.





	1. Chapter 1

[One of the holes in the xmen movies that bothers me more than anything is  _ where the hell did Victor nope off to while we were watching his brother do dumb save-the-world bullshit????  _ So I decided to do the worst thing and answer that in as painful a way as I could.

So here's this.]

\----

   The medically-induced haze he was in wore off sometimes, but it never lasted long and he couldn't make sense of enough to do anything about the clouds creeping back over his mind. It was like being underwater but still being able to breath and not knowing how you got there most of the time.

   The first thing he ever noticed was that his right eye was cold and he couldn't see out of it. There were a few times that he tried figuring out why before he remembered the metal contraption that had been put on that side of his face.

   He couldn't move his hands. Or the rest of his arms, really. He wasn't even sure if they were still there, since all he could feel from them was the same chill of metal. His legs were still free, but that was mostly because he didn't have the will to hold himself up anymore. There was the faint, distant memory of having that will, once, but it was barely discernable.

   The door to the room he was in slid open and a doctor he couldn't quite remember stepped into the room. She looked calm, but sad, and patted him on the head like he was a little kid and not a grown man. There were guards behind her that didn't turn to look into the room. They seemed uncomfortable.

   The woman checked the wires and tubes on the metal contraptions they'd strapped him into. This didn't feel unusual, but nothing really did when the world was just a patchwork collection of a few times you felt like things were real and more times you didn't.

   She wrote some stuff down on a clipboard and turned to press a switch on the computer everything seemed to run to in this room. The haze at the corners of his mind started flooding back and he panicked a bit, feeling like he was forgetting something again. The doctor shushed him and patted him on the head again as if trying to assure him it was alright.

   It didn't feel like long before the haze receded a bit again, and the room was painfully bright this time. There was the sound of metal being broken and suddenly the floor came rushing upwards towards him.

_ ‘Wait, no, that's called falling.’  _ he thought to himself, and was entirely sure he'd hit the ground, but something caught him.

   “Shit, this guy's heavy.” a mildly voice said from his right, and it took a second to put together that the man who had spoken must have caught him.

   “Yeah, Tony, some people aren't supposed to be covered in metal.” A much snider voice said from somewhere he couldn't discern. It was like it came from the same place as the first voice, but this one sounded female.

   “Whatever. Is it safe to disconnect this thing on his face?” the man spoke again, turning his head a bit. “What the hell is it, anyway?”

   Another voice answered, this one male but different and coming from the same place again. “Metal thing on the right eye? Clipboard in this room says they're brain pattern monitors. Should be fine.”

   “Has a lot of tubes for a monitor.” The man holding him up gently put him down, for some reason putting him on his side instead of on his back. When he tried to turn a bit, though, he realized that there was something sticking out of his back and it hurt.

   He vacantly watched some weird red metal boots step away from him before the man spoke again. “Shit, says this one is a  _ brain tissue extractor _ . How’s this guy not dead?”

   Another voice came through this time, sounding chillingly serious. “What's the name on the papers?”

   “Name or  _ number _ , Cap? Cause there's a lot down for both.” The snide mans voice replied. A part of his brain reminded him that it was called  _ Tony _ , and wasn't just a voice.

   “Now's not the time, Stark.” The serious man chastised, obviously not in the mood.

   “Fine, fine. Don't get your tights in a bunch.” The last part was mumbled, earning a warning repeat of his name from the female voice before Tony answered. Or was it Stark? Not a lot made sense when you couldn't even tell up from down.

   “The main name on the papers is ‘Victor Creed’. Know the guy, Cap? Cause it says he was in a linked program before World War Two.” The man with too many names said, starting to ramble.

   “What room are you in?” the woman and the serious man questioned at the same time. It occurred to some part of Victor’s mind that they weren't just voices, but he couldn't place why he knew where they were coming from. He didn't have the energy to try and remember anyway.

   On the subject of energy, he realized that he didn't have much right now. He could barely find the strength to move his free eye.

   The noise of his surroundings faded out a bit as he closed his eye and tried to ward off a headache, the world fading into a blur around him out of exhaustion rather than chemicals this time, until he was pulled upright again and someone lifted his face.

   “Oh, god …” the person in front of him breathed in disbelief and horror, and he recognized it as the serious man who was talking before. Victor could only keep his eye open and focused for a few minutes before he passed out. The last thing he could dredge up the energy to think before he lost consciousness was that he remembered the name ‘Cap’ from somewhere, and it brought up the name ‘Jimmy’ with it


	2. Unintended Chapter 2

[Chapter two, dedicated to Moviemuncher cause they put the first comment on any of my works ever by commenting on the initial post of this fic.

And also being a writer whose works I go through almost religiously. You're awesome. And you made my day!]

\---

   The next time he woke up, it was in another painfully bright room. His entire body ached, and there was a mask over the bottom half of his face. It must have been an oxygen mask, because the air he was breathing was cold and damp, while the rest of the room felt warm.

   He tried to open his eyes a bit and look around, going slowly so he could adjust to the light, and there was an odd mechanical noise from the upper corner of the room when he stirred.

   He'd just managed to open his eyes enough to look around when he heard a door open and footsteps enter the room. Within moments, there was a nurse looking him over and a very familiar face above him.

   “Hey, you were out a while.” the captain said, looking oddly worried for who he was talking to. Victor stared at him blankly and it took him a while to realize that the statement was aimed at him, and that he should probably respond.

   He tried opening his mouth to speak, but it felt like his jaw was rusted shut. How long had it been since he talked last?

   Rogers gave the nurse a worried look and she removed the oxygen mask. The air in the rest of the room was painfully dry to Victor, and he almost choked on it. The coughing helped loosen his jaw, though, and he tried replying in a much coherent thought as he could once he was given a bit of water.

   “Wh-What? Where-” A sharp pain in his throat cut him off, causing another coughing fit. By the time it was over, his throat was burning and he felt lightheaded.

   “Jarvis, what's his blood toxicity level right now?” The captain asked, seeing the dazed look on the face of a soldier he was told could walk away from dozens of bullet wounds with a grin.

   “ _There is 47% of the initial chemical inhibitors still in his body, but the number is dropping much faster now._ ” A slightly computerized voice rang out. To most it would sound normal, but there was a slight static to it that gave the man on the medical bed a headache.

   The captain nodded to himself, apparently satisfied with that answer, and finally provided a response to Victor’s questions.

   “You're in the infirmary in Stark Tower.” He said, rather loudly since he didn't realize that he was talking to someone with extremely sensitive hearing.”We found you in a Hydra research base. Do you remember how you got there?”

   It took a few moments for the information to register. When it did, it brought a series of barely-there memories. Falling through a boat and into water, wood sticking out of him like a bloody pin cushion; being fished out after what felt like weeks of soaking in salt water, his lungs burning with the need for oxygen and only getting water in his body's unending efforts to breath; being dragged through hallway after hallway and hearing distant screams from men, women, and children alike. The only reprieve from other people's screams was when his own overlaid them.

   He was shaken back to reality by a startled and worried Rogers, not having realized that he'd spaced out or that it felt like he couldn't breathe. Victor shuddered off the horrors his mind had tried to block out with a shaky laugh. Not the most sane reaction, but that was no surprise to him anymore.

   After assuring the captain he'd be fine and just needed some sleep, though rather unconvincingly, he was left alone. He didn't sleep, though. It was more like the odd, unfocused haze he'd grown used to being in.

\---


	3. Chapter 3

   Over the next couple of days, a lot of people came to see him. Rogers visited the most, having heard tons of stories about him from Jimmy. Victor didn't have the heart to break it to him that the runt was basically dead. He was a good source of information, though.

   Stark followed the captain down sometimes, and the amount of knowing and pity that rolled off of the spoiled brat made his blood boil. Not to mention how much the bastard  _ talked _ .

   Romanov would enter the room on occasion and just watch him. No talking, no questions; She just stood there and studied him. He could tell from the way she smelled that she was curious, but cautions. Victor assumed she'd seen his file as many times as he saw hers.

   By the time he could sit up without feeling like he'd pass out, Stark had made a room for him in the tower. Without asking if he even wanted to stay, of course. The man seemed to live on numerous variations of ‘Ask questions later’. The room was nice, at least, and he was promised by the stupid AI that he could leave whenever he wished.

   The only downside was that there was no kitchen in the room. Which meant that if he wanted to eat, he had to go to the floor that was open to everyone and risk actually spending time with these idiots.

   He went to eat in the middle of the night, hoping most of them would be asleep or out of the way, but found the entire goddamn tower on the couch having some kind of group movie night. They turned to look at him the moment the elevator doors opened and wouldn't close no matter how many times he pressed the button for his own floor again.

   “Stark, your elevator’s not working.” He growled, refusing to move. Most of the group was still staring at him.

   “Nah, Jarvis is programed to keep it on this floor if the person in it hasn't eaten in a while.” The billionaire replied, turning back to the screen and waved his hand to beckon Victor out of the elevator.

   He didn't have much choice in the matter, so Vic huffed and headed towards the kitchen. He could smell the pizza back in the main room, but if he went over there he would no doubt be roped into their little party.

   The blonde man fixed himself a sizeable sandwich, staying in the kitchen to eat. It was the only room that didn't have anyone else in it. For a few minutes, at least. But then the archer, Barton, walked in and leaned against the wall near the door.

   He seemed to be trying to mimic the silent observation that Romanov was so good at, but he scrunched up his face too much and tapped his foot a little bit like he was waiting to be noticed.

   “You gonna quit staring at me, pipsqueak?” Victor asked as he brushed the crumbs off of his hands. He got a glare in return, and he could hear the archer start grinding his teeth.

   “Who are you?” Hawkeye asked after a few tense moments of silence. Victor knew what he was really asking, but he couldn't beat down the urge to say something snide.

   “M’ sure good ol’ Cap told you my name.” He replied, the corners of his mouth twitching when the man stepped forward in a way that would have been threatening to anyone not twice his size.

   “Yeah, and that he knew your brother during  _ World War Two _ .” Barton growled, as much as he could considering he didn't have the vocal chords for it. “How is it you're over seventy years old and barely even look forty?”

   “I moisturize.” He joked, grinning to show his teeth in a subtle warning that the other didn't quite catch. 

   The shorter man took another step forward and seemed to be trying to stealthily go into a fighting stance.

   Victor shrugged, holding his arms out to the side like he was daring the tiny archer to hit him, and the little idiot almost took the challenge. Thor put his hand on Barton’s shoulder more to snap him out of the rage he'd worked himself into than to hold him back. It worked, though, and the archer left the room grumbling.

   “You should not antagonize him, my friend. He does not easily let go of grudges.” The asgardian warned, looking honestly like he was trying to be kind.

   “Good.” Was all Victor had to say in response. He pushed his plate into the sink and walked past the god, putting no effort into keeping from bumping into him a bit.

   ‘ _ Let ‘em get mad.’ _ He thought to himself on his way back to the elevator. _ ‘I ain't playin nice.’ _

\---

[As I was writing that last part I thought to myself ‘Who would win in a fight between Vic and Thor?” and I honestly can't decide.]


	4. Chapter 4

   Tony was hoping to spend a little time this morning actually getting some work done, but he was too curious about his new houseguest. Curious, and also extremely worried. 

“Jarvis, is Vic awake yet?” he mumbled, pouring himself another cup of coffee.

   “ _ He is, sir. _ ” the computer replied, sounding a bit worried. “ _ In fact, he has been awake the entire night. _ ”

   The inventor sat up straight. “What? He didn't sleep at all? What's he been  _ doing _ ?”

   “ _ Nothing, sir. He appears to substitute sleep for the dazed state he was kept in at the Hydra facility _ .” The AI explained. “ _ Mr. Creed has not slept since he first woke up in the infirmary. _ ”

   “Shit.” Tony mumbled to himself, putting his mug down. He leaned forward, propping his chin up on the back of his folded hands. 

   “Has he been eating?”

   “ _ Minimally. _ ” was the short reply. And it made him hum in thought.

   “Can you call him down here?”

   There was a pause while his trusty computer companion forwarded his request to its recipient. The response was not what he'd hoped for.

   “ _ I am afraid he does not wish to come down to your workshop _ .” Jarvis informed him. “ _ He stated that if you wish to talk, you may go to him instead. _ ”

   “That's minus the cursing, right?”

   “ _ Of course, sir. _ ”

   “Alright.” Tony said, pushing back from his desk. “Keep this blueprint up for me. I’ll be back in a bit. Wake Cap and tell him to meet me there, okay?”

   “ _ Certainly, sir. _ ”

\---

[Sorry this is like, half the length of the other chapters. School right now is basically playing catch-up because we were off for an entire week due to snow. Next one will be longer, I promise.]


	5. Chapter 5

[Whenever I think of Vic, I imagine Liev’s Vic but with the blonde hair that's just long enough to put in a low ponytail and amber eyes with the cat-looking pupils. Just a fun fact.

Btw, chapter dedicated to Screeching_For_Years for their comment, which I read for motivation while finishing this chapter which I swear I started writing months ago.]

\---

   They decided that Steve was more suited to knocking on the door than Tony was, the former getting along with their house guest a bit better. And Tony  _ insisted _ he couldn't do it while he was holding the single bag of snacks he brought with him.

   The door was pushed open slowly, and Victor glared at both of them in turn.

   “Wha’d’ya want?” He asked irritably, not taking his hand off the doorknob and effectively blocking Tony from walking past him like he usually would.

   To counter this blatant denial of entry, however, Tony held up the bag. “I brought food.”

   “Oh joy, food t’ go with th’ smell a’ gasoline that ya’ seem t’ be soaked in all th’ time.” was the sarcastic reply, but the mutant moved out of the way regardless. The mechanic rushed by as though it was a race, and Steve paused to shrug in apology at Victor.

   The tallest of the three shut the door as soon as Rogers was past him and followed his two mildly unwanted guests into the living room.

   Stark was babbling on about something-or-other, Vic didn't bother to try keeping up anymore, and he only really heard little bits of what the annoying little idiot said most of the time anyway. It was only when Rogers shushed the goddamn blabbermouth that he started paying attention again.

   “Look, Victor …” Rogers started, looking somewhere between uncomfortable and worried. “Are you alright?”

   “What? Why wouldn' I be?” Came the defensive and suspicious reply. They'd found out the hard way that he didn't like talking, especially about himself. The only person he even acknowledged half the time was Rogers.

   “Jarvis told me you haven't been sleeping.” Tony cut in, immediately regretting it and shrinking back from the sharp look Victor gave him.

   “Th’ stupid computer is keepin’ track a’ me on top a’ giving me headaches? Wonderful.” He growled rather loudly when Jarvis spoke up in his own defence.

   “I apologize, I try to make sure all guests in the tower are in good health.” The overhead speakers supplied, making Victor cover his ears.

   “Can ya’ use one fuckin speaker, at least?!” Their houseguest yelled, looking terrifyingly angry.

   “Whoa, calm down there.” Steve tried to soothe, slightly less startled than Tony. “Do you not like Jarvis?”

   “Damn thing makes my ears hurt! Goddamn screechin’ electronics ...” Victor trailed off in a mumble, striding towards the table the food had been placed on with a sour look on his face.

   “Jarvis?  _ Screeching _ ? He's got the best voice generation in the world!” Tony complained. He didn't like his tech being criticized.

   “Dont fuckin matter. If it comes from somethin’ electronic, it's gonna screech.” Victor shot back, digging around in the bag until he found something he wanted. “Ya’ just don't have good enough ears ta’ hear it.”

   “But that'd require almost cat-like hearing! Especially with the speakers in the tower, since I designed them myself, and-”

   He cut himself off, something clicking in his brain.

   “Cap, you said you knew his brother, right? back during the war?” The mechanic asked, staring almost blankly at nothing. You could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

   “Yeah, why?” was the hesitant reply.

   Victor leveled a challenging look at the billionaire, almost telling him to put everything together.

   Finally, Tony looked up, and he looked shocked.

   “You're a mutant.”

 

\----

{ Shhhh, I'll explain why they didn't realize before in the next chapter. I swear.}


	6. Chapter 6

   “Took ya’ long enough.” Victor said in an almost pleased tone before taking a bite out of his burger.

   “Wha-, But You-, Huh?!” Tony sputtered for a bit, while Rogers just looked a bit puzzled. “But there was no indication, you just look like a big, scary biker dude!”

   “That's cause Hydra’s apparently a step ahead of ya’.” Came the mocking reply as Creed put his food down and put a hand to the back of his neck. He bared his teeth a bit and the hand came back with a little metal circle and a lot of blood. With a few quick blinks, as though he was re-adjusting to light after being in a dark room, His eyes went from a light green to a bright amber.

   “Someone at that facility was smart enough to try and block my powers. I guess they didn't want it messing up their scans, but they made it impossible to detect.” He explained, tossing the disk onto the table and grabbing a few napkins.

   “But, what all can you do?” Stark asked. He had a million questions, and Victor wanted to hear none of them.

   “Wait, Tony.” Steve cut in, putting a hand up to stop any argument. “This doesn't change the fact that you're not sleeping. Or eating, for that matter.”

   “What's it matter? ‘s not like I need to.” Creed argued. He refused to admit that he needed to. Or that it was a problem.

   “Everyone needs sleep. This isn't healthy.” Cap tried to reason with him, but it made no difference. Victor stood up, ignoring his unfinished food, and went to the door. He opened it and held a hand up to signal that he wanted them to leave.

   “You can't just kick us out. I own the place!” Tony whined, a bit angry.

   “I'll leave today, then. I ain't talkin’ about this.” The tallest of the three growled. Before the inventor could argue further, his teammate put a hand on his shoulder. They left without any more fuss.

 

   The rest of the Avengers didn't enjoy being woken up for an impromptu meeting. The only person who didn't complain was Thor, but they were all sure he'd already been awake. _No one_ was that jovial in the morning.

   Before Clint could start whinging, Tony put on what everyone called his serious face.

   “Nat, did you bring down those files I asked you for?” He asked, more focused than any of them had seen him before.

   “Yeah. There's a lot, though.” The spy replied, putting a box on the table and pushing it down the table towards the mechanic. “Not a lot of answers, though.”

   Tony opened the box and flicked through a few folders, his face scrunching up more. He pushed the box to his side, where Cap was sitting, and tapped the table twice. They all knew most of the conference rooms in the tower were equipped with hologram tech, so the blueish screen that flickered to life behind him didn't startle them much.

   They were more surprised at the amount of digital files on it.

    “I did a little research on my latest houseguest recently. Who wants to raise their hand and ask me what I found?” the billionaire prompted, and Clint decided to humor him by throwing his hand in the air like a kid in highschool. Tony pointed a pen at him, prompting him to speak.

   “What’d you find, Tony?” the archer asked in an annoyed, sarcastic tone. “Please, we're dying to know.”

   The inventor flicked his hand and a few files were magnified.

   “Thirty-one obituaries-”

   Another flick brought up different files.

   “Ninety-three different sets of identification such as IDs, Passports, and Driver's Licenses.”

   Another flick.

   “And over three hundred murder and assault charges.” He finished, closing the larger screen and letting the touchscreens on the table turn on. Clint immediately scrolled through as many of the files as he could. The rest of them barely noticed, as they were too busy staring in shock at Tony.

   “Wh- Some of these are from _centuries_ ago!” Clint exclaimed, looking up in shock and watching Stark nod. “You're telling me we have some kind of Immortal Serial Killer in the tower and we're just _talking_ about it?!”

   He looked like he was going to keep talking, but Cap spoke up.

   “We were originally going to talk about the fact that he seems to have extreme PTSD and isn't sleeping at all, but it seems Tony decided to change the topic of discussion on me.” He said, sounding a bit unhappy.

   “Cap, he's a wanted criminal in every country in the world. I think that's a little more important right now.” Natasha retorted.

   “And how many people do you think will find ways to use his mental instability for worse things than he's already done?” Their star-spangled leader asked. “How many organizations do you know would _love_ to get their hands on a someone with no sense of self-preservation, no possibility of dying on the job, and barely any reaction to pain?”

   “When was this information obtained? These articles do not contain much.” Thor asked, looking more focused than any of them had seen him before.

   “Jarvis told me he hasn't slept since he woke up in the infirmary, so me and Cap went to talk to him earlier this morning.” Tony started.

   “He refused to listen and tried to change the subject.” Rogers continued for him. “Then, uh-”

   “He pulled a chip out of the back of his neck. He said it was an inhibitor, and his eyes changed color when he removed it.” The mechanic finished.

   Just as Natasha was about to speak up again, the at the end of the table jumped back to life with the SHIELD logo on it. Tony instructed Jarvis to put the call through and prepared for the worst.

 

* * *

 

 {I'm going to put a bunch of my fics about Vic in a series, since I figured out a great way to tie them all together.}

 


End file.
